Scars
by m.brown
Summary: He has scars. Inside and out. Oliver wants nothing more than to open up about his time on the island, but sometimes it's hard. Will Laurel help him along the way? Takes place right after 1X21. Might be a one-shot or not. I'm not sure yet!


The thunder awoke Oliver with a start. Of course, the storm was on his side tonight. The nightmares that plagued him were unbearable, and not just the ones about the island. Oliver had dreams about the island every night and was accustomed to it by now. The worst part of going to sleep was seeing Laurel and waking up knowing that everything between them was gone. Seeing her in his sleep every night only made it so much worse waking up and coming back to reality.

He sat up in his bed and breathed heavily as the cold sweat glistened on his skin. He rubbed his face and glanced at the clock beside his bed which read 2:13am. He lied back down and shut his eyes only to have flashes of Laurel invade his mind. Ripping off his sheets, he stood up and walked to the bathroom. Oliver turned on the sink and splashed cold water to his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.

His face was dripping, he badly needed to shave, and he had a new scar above his left eye brow he hadn't noticed before. He was still wearing the same button-up shirt and pants from tonight since he was too exhausted to even change. Oliver took one last look at himself and then turned away. He flicked off the light, found his shoes, and put on a coat.

Then he leapt out of his window.

* * *

Oliver knocked three times and surprisingly didn't have to wait too long for the door to open. The person standing behind the door looked at him and blinked a few times obviously confused to see him.

"Oliver? What are you doing here? Why are you soaking wet?" Laurel asked.

"I couldn't sleep," Oliver simply stated.

"Yeah, me neither," she replied.

"Could we talk?" Oliver asked her, his eyes pleading with everything he had. She nodded and opened the door more. He nodded to her and walked into the apartment. Oliver was surprised to see the fire lit and a cup of coffee sitting on the coffee table. "I see you were already awake."

"I couldn't sleep either. You need to get out of those clothes. I think I might still have a few of your things in my closet…" Laurel said before retreating to her room. He followed her and was surprised to see her room hadn't changed very much. The bed was in the same spot, the curtains were the same, the walls, the sheets… _everything_ was still the same.

"Here." She handed him a long sleeve shirt and sweats that he hadn't seen in a long time. Laurel looked at him quickly before looking down and walking out of the room. Oliver brought his old clothes to his face and inhaled her scent that lingered on them. He missed that smell. When he was on the island, he could remember everything about Laurel except her particular smell. It was sweet, like a flower, but also warm like vanilla. It brought back thousands of memories, but he pushed them all out of his head and changed clothes.

He walked out of her room and hung his wet clothes in the bathroom to dry. When he walked back out, Laurel was curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hands gazing into the flames.

"Hmm… sweat pants and a dress shirt? Not the best of outfits I must say," Laurel said cheekily. Oliver chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Well you didn't give me the best selection. But really, thank you. I left my clothes in the bathroom if that's okay," Oliver said.

"That's fine. And don't worry about it. They're yours anyhow," Laurel said with a hint of a sad smile. Oliver walked over and sat on the floor next to the fireplace so that he was opposite of Laurel. The heat was drying his hair though it was almost all dry by now.

"So I've decided that I can't do this on my own anymore," Oliver said and looked up at her. Laurel cocked her head as her eye brows pinned together in curiosity.

"Can't do what?" she asked him.

"Get through the day. Sleep soundly through the night. Be part of my family. Live. I just… I know that I haven't listened to you or anyone before, but that's because it's hard. It's hard to let the people you love in because you don't want them to get hurt. You don't want them to feel the pain you felt or feel sorry for you or treat you any differently. But I know I also can't keep doing this by myself. I can't keep shutting my eyes and seeing that island every time I go to sleep."

Laurel gazed into his eyes for a moment as he finished speaking. Her expression was hard to read because it was a mixture of so many different emotions. She placed her mug on the coffee table and slid off the couch to sit on the floor. She tentatively grabbed Oliver's hand and squeezed it.

"Then don't do it on your own. Let me in, Ollie," she said with all of her heart. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"There are so many things I want to tell you, Laurel. I just can't hurt you like that. I couldn't live with myself. After everything you've done, after forgiving me and still being my friend when I was a horrible person to you, how can I put you through the pain I feel?" he asked her.

"You're not going to hurt me. The only thing that's hurting me is knowing that you feel like this every day and there's no way I can help. You need to let me help you, Oliver," Laurel said. There was a silence between them for a while. The only thing disrupting complete silence was the crackle of the fire.

"The island changed me in so many more ways than you've seen. The things I had to do… you would see me as a monster."

"Oliver, you were stranded for five years. You were there with people who hurt you and you had nobody. You had to survive and whatever you did, it doesn't matter because you're here and you're alive."

"That's not true," Oliver said softly. Laurel looked at him strangely so he spoke again. "I wasn't alone." Oliver flicked his eyes up to hers and just stared at her trying to communicate his feelings through a single look.

"Why didn't you tell me you still loved me?" Laurel breathed. "Tonight… at the hospital…"

"I couldn't bring myself to do it. I could never put you in a position like that when I had already broken your heart once. To come back from the island and bring back everything you had managed to push away for five years? No, I couldn't."

"You came back and tried so hard to get back into my life. When I finally let you in, you pushed me away. Why?"

"I'm not right for you, Laurel. I pushed you away because I didn't want you to get hurt again. There was a point where I was going to tell you. Then I found out about you and Tommy. You had him and you were happy. Who was I to come in between you two?" Oliver asked. Laurel's eyes glistened and she scoffed at him.

"You can't just… you can't just tell me that and come back here and tell me now that you survived that island because of me. You can't pretend you didn't have feelings for me since you've gotten home. You put up that bullshit act like you were still the old, party-boy Oliver just because you wanted to keep me away from you. Who were you to come between us? No, Oliver, who are you to decide how I should feel about you?"

"Laurel… I'm not right for you. I'm damaged and the things I've done-" Oliver began, but she cut him off.

"I don't care about what you've done. I'm damaged too, Oliver," Laurel said as her voice broke at the end. She was breathing heavier now and her eyes held his in a connection that couldn't be broken.

"You don't understand…"

"Then help me to! Please… help me understand."

"I'm a monster, Laurel. I'm a broken and unstable. I've done things that would make you look at me a completely different way. I've _hurt_ people. I'm a murderer," Oliver whispered. However, even as the last word left his lips, Laurel's expression didn't change. She still looked at him with eyes of compassion and understanding and Oliver had to fight every urge inside of him to lean forward and kiss her.

"You did what you had to do to survive. I don't care what you've done, don't you get that? Whatever you did to get you to this point where you're alive, sitting, breathing in front of me, I'm happy you did it. You're not a murder; you're a _survivor_."

Oliver was silent after the last word left Laurel's mouth. Yes, Oliver was a survivor, but he was also a vigilante and a killer. He was still killing, and not just to stay alive. The thoughts ate away at him as his gaze hardened at the fire that still was burning brightly.

"Ollie?" Laurel asked him in a small voice. His focus changed back to her and his gaze softened.

"Yes?" he replied softly.

"I can't be with Tommy anymore."

"Why?"

"The same reason that you told me you couldn't talk to him for me." Oliver shook his head and clenched his jaw.

"No; I'm not going to hurt you anymore," Oliver said a forcefully, but Laurel would have none of that.

"Damn it, Oliver! You tell me right now exactly how you feel about me. I don't care what you think; just tell me how you feel about me. Please," Laurel said. Oliver swallowed. He had no way of avoiding it whatsoever, not with Laurel staring at him the way she was. He hung his head and stared at the carpet below him. He closed his eyes and looked back up at her, before he spoke.

"I love you."

Laurel moved towards him swiftly and captured his lips with her own. Oliver held the back of her head and kissed her back fiercely. He pulled her waist towards him so that Laurel was now straddling him. Both of her hands held the sides of his face and ran into his short, brown hair.

"That's all I needed to hear," Laurel breathed. Oliver kissed her again and trailed his lips down her neck, his tongue leaving a trail of fire on her skin, before meeting her own mouth again. Her hands worked quickly at the buttons on his shirt which was quickly discarded to the floor. She ran her hands over his shoulders and hair just trying to feel every part of him.

Oliver brought his arm to her lower back and locked it there in an iron grip before carefully standing up. She locked her legs around his waist and held his face in both of her own. Oliver carefully navigated around the couches and table before finding his way to the bedroom and crashing to the bed. And the moment that followed was one of pure bliss and ultimate perfection.

* * *

Oliver kissed the top of Laurel's head as he held her. Their legs were tangled together under the sheets and he could feel her foot gently rubbing against his calf. His arm wrapped around her waist and stroked her side protectively while Laurel leaned on his chest. He could feel her fingers carefully tracing the scars on his chest and he closed his eyes at her touch.

"Ollie?" Laurel asked quietly.

"I won't tell you about everything tonight. I can't do that to you and I'm not sure I can handle it," Oliver replied to her unasked question. Laurel looked up at him and kissed him gently.

"Just tell me whatever you think you can tonight," she said. Oliver nodded and sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"We managed to get on a life raft. My dad was there with me as well as another man. We were dehydrated and tired and I thought we were going to die. That's when he gave me…" Oliver paused. He had said too much and silently cursed at himself for letting that part slip.

"He gave you what?" Laurel asked as she moved to look up at him. Oliver just smiled sadly and looked away.

"That's for another night, okay?"

"Okay. Go ahead."

"Anyhow, after he talked to him and gave me something… he pulled out a gun, shot the man, and shot himself in the head," he said. Laurel grabbed his hand and Ihe kissed her head reassuring her he was okay. "I passed out and eventually floated to the island. I buried my father and when I was done, I got shot with an arrow. I woke up in this cave where a man named Yao Fei was healing my wounds. He's one of the people who made it possible for me to escape and why I didn't die within the first few days I was there." Oliver said. They were both silent for a few minutes before he continued.

"He taught me how to hunt and survive while I was there. The next day, we were hunting and I went to get the rabbit he shot, but I was captured by a ground of armed men. They brought me to their camp where a man named Edward Fyers questioned me about Yao Fei. When I didn't say anything…"

"…they tortured you," Laurel finished for him. Oliver nodded and clenched his jaw remembering Deathstroke slicing him open. "I'm sorry," she breathed. Oliver shook his head and squeezed her hand.

"It's okay. It's all over now," Oliver said. They were both silent for a few minutes before Laurel spoke again.

"Which scar is it?" she asked carefully. He gently brought her hand to the diagonal line cutting across the left part of his abdomen. Her fingers traced it softly, almost featherlike, and he closed his eyes. He tensed when he felt a pair of lips gently kiss the center of it. He looked down at Laurel and her absolute beauty and pressed his lips to hers firmly. Then he brought the covers over both of their bodies and moved to get more comfortable.

"Goodnight, Laurel. Thank you," Oliver whispered to her.

"For what?" she replied. He smiled to himself and kissed her cheek.

"For listening. Goodnight."

"I'll always be here to listen. Goodnight, Oliver. I love you."

"I love you too."

Oliver, for the first time in five years, fell asleep without having a single nightmare.


End file.
